


Vulnerability

by OtteryKhaleesi



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Porn, S2E10, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtteryKhaleesi/pseuds/OtteryKhaleesi
Summary: Mike doesn't deign to think about the fact that the shirt probably cost most than a months rent, deciding instead to just rest his head there and breathe. Harvey smells like Harvey always does. Coffee, sweat, cologne... and now the underlying and yet overpowering stench of weed permeates in too."Mike." There's a tone of command in Harvey's rough voice and Mike finds himself looking up at him, his fingers twining with the other mans. The air between them is suddenly charged like the moment before a lightning strike and Mike fixes it in his memory.He fixes how Harvey's throat works as he tips his head just slightly down within reach of Mike. He fixes the exact position of that mole and he makes damn sure he remembers exactly how it feels when Harvey Reginald Specter kisses him.--Add on to S02E10 High Noon





	Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very rusty at writing porn and I wrote this at 1am so please forgive me
> 
> As always, I don't own shit.
> 
> Enjoy

"My grandmother died." 

"I know." The words hit him like a punch to the gut and he almost doubles over. He knew. Harvey knew. His fingers tighten on the door frame almost imperceptibly and then he relaxes them again, all the tension leaving his body at once. 

"You obviously weren’t ready to deal with it so I respected that by keeping you busy, was I wrong?" 

"No." Without another word he steps aside to let Harvey in, closing the door gently behind him. Harvey looks a little... ruffled perhaps is the word. His top button is undone and his tie is skewed just slightly to the left as if he'd been playing with it.

"Are you stoned?"

"Yes. And you can save the lecture I'm not interested in hearing--."

"Good. I'm not interested in giving one." Mike watches Harvey sweep across the floor to the table, lifting the poorly rolled joint delicately to his face and lighting up.

"Help yourself..." But Harvey isn't listening any more, he's drawing down a deep toke and then looking up - his dark eyes already deepening as the drug starts to work and he exhales a small cloud of acrid smoke. 

"Don't mind if I do. Is this the coffee cart guy?" Mike can't stop staring. More and more things that Harvey knows surprise him and they shouldn't because Harvey knows everything and everyone... his mind is going too fast and he takes the joint from his mentor, taking a deep inhale and tipping his head back.

"I don't have anyone left now." He murmurs into the silence, his voice sounding strangely echoey in the cramped room. He looks at Harvey and hands him the joint wordlessly, shaking his head at the pity and sympathy in the elder mans eyes. "Don't do that dude." He mutters, levering himself up onto the countertop.

"I thought I told you never to call me dude." Regardless of this fact, Harvey takes another toke on the joint and slowly exhales it in a steady stream. Loosening his tie with one hand, he passes the joint back to Mike and leans against the opposite counter, watching his associate carefully.

"Shut up." It's not a particularly pithy response, but Mike's been smoking since this morning and his brain isn't working to full capacity any more. "I never thought of myself as an orphan before now." He takes another drag and then flicks the spent butt of the joint into the sink. His eyes flicker to Harvey again, the other man having lost his tie and rolling his sleeves up.

"I know how much she meant." The words sound heartfelt but Mike barks out a harsh laugh in response.

"I thought Harvey Specter didn't care about anyone." He mutters, dragging himself back to the couch to roll another, bigger, joint to try and numb the pain. 

"I care about winning in the court room. And out of it, given I don't like going to court but Mike... I don't not care about anyone. I care about Donna. Jessica." There's a long pause and then he doesn't quite meet his eyes. "And you."

"Louis?"

"Don't push it rookie." And suddenly Mike's laughing, the smoke catching the back of his throat as he does so and he's caught between coughing and laughing as he hands the new joint to Harvey. 

"Noted." Mike jumps back up on the counter, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie up his arms and folding them as he watches Harvey smoke. "This isn't new to you." He says softly, blue eyes sweeping over the impressive figure Harvey is cutting as he smokes, the lighted tip glowing in his hands and giving his angled features a strange shadow. 

"Just because I have a no tolerance policy doesn't mean I've never tried it. And I'm waiving it, just this once." He adds quickly, meeting Mike's gaze and holding it for several long seconds. Something crackles between them and Mike breaks the eye contact first, running his hands through his hair and then looking up at Harvey again - though this time not quite meeting his eyes. 

They pass the joint back and forth in silence for a little while, Mike's hands trembling as he takes it and Harvey steadying them with his own. His touches are gentle - far gentler than the harsh 'Go home. Now.' Mike had heard not even 24 hours before. 

"Why did you come here?" Mike finally breaks the silence and looks up at Harvey, the joint slowly burning in his fingertips as he squirms a little to get comfortable.

"Like I said. I didn't want you to never come back." The lie isn't as easily hid as normal, Harvey's face isn't carefully shuttered any more and Mike can see the truth fighting beneath. Mike shakes his head and then passes the joint back over, his fingers brushing over Harvey's more so than necessary.

"No. I think you care how I'm doing but you're too chicken shit to admit it. I think you came here because you care about me and you want me to be okay. Am I far off?" Harvey laughs and a cloud of smoke forms around his head as a result of that.

"Something like that."

"The great Harvey Specter admitting he cares. Can I have that in writing? You know for next time you tell me you don't care about my skinny ties being all up in your face?" He chuckles at his own joke and then looks back at Harvey, cocking his head to one side. "What?"

"I never put anything in writing." Harvey's tie is now neatly folded beside the microwave and he has his top button open, revealing soft skin beneath. Mike can't stop staring and he knows Harvey can tell. He slowly steps forward and takes the joint away from Harvey, holding it in his hand and staring at it for what feels like eternity before he takes a deep toke to steady himself. 

"What do you want Harvey?" His voice is trembling and the smell of weed is heavy in the air as he lifts his gaze to the other man. The small triangle of flesh is so tempting and Mike wants to bury himself in it, lose himself in the warmth there.

"Like I said." Harvey's voice is steady, but his trembling hands give him away and Mike takes them in his own, the spent joint dropping unheeded onto the tiled floor. "I care." Mike exhales shakily, looking at their hands, lazily folded together and he feels a slight squeeze from Harvey.

"I feel empty." He admits softly, the raw emotion clawing at his chest and making him ache for any affection. Any warmth any... anything. Anything other than the gaping hole in his chest that grief has torn him. 

"I know." For once there's no teasing. No banter. Harvey stares at him, eyes long ago blown black by the drugs carefully picking out every minute detail from Mike's ruffled hair to the torn collar of the old tee he's wearing. 

"Yeah." He doesn't have anything else to say really, and his head drops down so that his forehead is resting on the crisp material of Harvey's shirt. Mike doesn't deign to think about the fact that the shirt probably cost most than a months rent, deciding instead to just rest his head there and breathe. Harvey smells like Harvey always does. Coffee, sweat, cologne... and now the underlying and yet overpowering stench of weed permeates in too. 

"Mike." There's a tone of command in Harvey's rough voice and Mike finds himself looking up at him, his fingers twining with the other mans. The air between them is suddenly charged like the moment before a lightning strike and Mike fixes it in his memory.

He fixes how Harvey's throat works as he tips his head just slightly down within reach of Mike. He fixes the exact position of that mole and he makes damn sure he remembers exactly how it feels when Harvey Reginald Specter kisses him. Harvey tastes like whiskey and weed and Mike knows he can't taste much better but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters are that Harvey's hands are everywhere, sending waves of heat everywhere they touch him. Mike's hands curl into his shirt, working the buttons with a clumsiness that only comes from being as high as he is but Harvey doesn't care. He doesn't care. 

Mike finds his legs bumping against the back of the sofa and he's falling, tipped and on his back on the dusty cushions. 

"Fuck." He mutters as he drags Harvey with him, pawing his shirt open and shoving it off as roughly as he can manage until Harvey is bare above him. God he wants to remember this until he dies. Harvey looks ethereal, celestial almost; and Mike buries his face in the juncture between neck and shoulder, just breathing in the rich scent of Harvey. 

"That's exactly what I intend on doing." Harvey's voice is rough in his ear and Mike feels his hips arch up into the elders roving hands. The words have sent all the blood to his groin and he's not ashamed to let out desperate whimpers and whines mingled with Harvey's name. 

"Harvey--." Whatever he's going to say is gone, swallowed by heady kisses and Mike's brain short circuits for a moment as he feels his jeans open and a soft hand slide down into his boxers. He hisses in delight, wiggling his hips a little to give Harvey more room. 

"Mike." He counters, suddenly pulling him up and through the open door to Mike's bedroom. The room is totally in darkness and it takes a few fumbling moments to get the light to turn on, casting a weak golden glow across them both. Mike thinks Harvey's never looked so beautiful than this moment, his bare chest heaving with want as he stares down at Mike.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" It's like Mike's sober brain has suddenly kicked in and he's remembering everything about sex under the influence and for a moment he pushes a hand up to still Harvey, waiting for a response.

"Yes." Harvey whispers into Mike's ear, hands sliding under the soft tee he's wearing in an attempt to get him undressed. "Are you?"

"Don't you dare stop." And just like that, Mike's naked under Harvey's hands with little recollection of how it happened. Harvey's still wearing his slacks and Mike paws at them ineffectually, desperately trying to bare more skin on his mentor. It takes a while but Harvey obliges, shimmying out of them until he's in his boxers, the silky material making goosebumps erupt on Mike's skin wherever they graze him. 

"Do you have--?" Caught in the moment, Mike nods and fumbles for a moment in the bedside cabinet before drawing out what Harvey wants. He spots a slight look of surprise on the elders face and he lets out a soft laugh in response.

"What. You thought you were gonna be my first?" Harvey growls, a possessive streak coursing through him as he pins Mike to the bed and marks him on his neck, chest, shoulders, thighs... everywhere. Mike's body is a topography of places Harvey Specter has been and he doesn't care, mewling for each one wantonly and brazenly. He's loud, he's knows, but he can't bring himself to care when Harvey is touching him like this and making him shudder in all the right ways. 

He's so far gone he doesn't notice Harvey's been preparing until a warm finger presses against his entrance and slides inside. He can feel the juxtaposition of icy cold lube and the heat radiating from Harvey and it makes him shudder in anticipation. His fingers tighten on the bed as Harvey works him - and he groans, deep and guttural when Harvey brushes his prostate. Time suspends and all Mike can focus on is the litany of 'Harvey's dropping from his lips at every touch, every single movement. It's too much. It's not enough. Mike is on fire with want and desire, pushing back against Harvey's fingers as if his life depends on it. 

"Breathe." An instruction, but a gentle one, and Mike does his best to comply as Harvey's fingers leave him and a hot, blunt pressure is replaced where they were. He's so goddamn empty that he pushes back against Harvey's lubed cock, taking him deep until he bottoms out and has to stop for a moment. There's a new ache in his stomach that entirely from Harvey and for now it's edging out the gaping well of loneliness. 

Mike shouts as Harvey starts to move, back arching and fingers twitching as they scrabble for purchase on the cheap sheets of his bedcovers. Harvey is amazing, his speed his rhythm... it's everything Mike needs to block out the grief for long enough to pretend he's whole again. His head tips back with a cry and he feels a hot hand around his leaking cock, Harvey thrusting in time with the motions of his wrist. He's never been so incredibly fucked before, his back arches and his eyes close as he feels the familiar white hot rush of orgasm creep up on him.

He comes with Harvey's names on his lips, Harvey's cock inside him and Harvey's mouth against his throat. He's completely entwined in the other man and he feels Harvey shudder into completion a mere few seconds later, hands tightening their grip on Mike so hard they'll bruise and create reminders of this moment that he'll wish would stay forever. Words aren't needed right now, and Mike winces as Harvey slowly pulls out and ditches the condom in the bin beside his bed.

"Stay." It's not a command, it's a request - and it's one Harvey acquiesces too with a soft smile on his face. For tonight he's not the hotshot lawyer, he's Harvey Specter. Human being. Lover. 

"I'll stay, rookie. I'll stay." Harvey call feel the exhaustion rolling off his associate and it isn't long until the younger man is passed out in his arms, his face finally peaceful and relaxed. Grief never really leaves, Harvey knows that much - the wound from his father is locked away deep inside of him but it's there. Acutely there sometimes. Harvey knows the sting of grief all too well. Absently, he tightens his arms around Mike as he sleeps, lips brushing the top of his head.

He can't fix anything, nor would he try. But for tonight, he can stay. After all, Mike asked.


End file.
